Tsk, Tsk (preview)
by Aina Song
Summary: A contest for my readers! Read, review, and vote which of my three previews will become my next story project!


_**Title: The Lyrium Ghost (preview)**_

 _ **Author: Aina Song**_

 _ **Fandom(s): Harry Potter/Dragon Age 2**_

 _ **Warning(s): None.**_

 _ **Author's Note: I am hereby announcing a contest for my readers. I have three very brilliant Harry Potter crossover story ideas, but am stuck on which one to finish and post first. I will be posting previews for all three in their correct crossover categories, but if you cannot find them, feel free to visit my author page for a shortcut. The story ideas are: The Lyrium Ghost, a crossover with Dragon Age 2; Pendragon's Apprentice, a crossover with Howl's Moving Castle; and Tsk, Tsk, a crossover with Supernatural. The preview with the most votes will win the draw, so please remember to leave a review for the one you deem most worthy of my attention.**_

Harry Potter knew far more than he was letting on.

To start with, he knew 'Harry' was not his real name. He hated the name, in fact; so plebeian, hardly worth the two syllables it took to speak it. And 'Potter'. Not his last name.

James and Lily Potter, though nice enough to him during the first year of his life, were a memory he did nothing to preserve. A witch and a wizard, having fallen for each other in school and married after graduation – cloyingly sweet, if a bit cliché. But rather dull. In fact, their final moments in life had been the most exciting thing about them. James, the predictable hero, sacrificing himself to the enemy in the hope that his family would escape. Lily, the devoted mother, shielding her child from a killing blow and thus dying, herself.

Harry was grateful to them both, he supposed. But that was where his feelings for them ended.

He was then passed along to Petunia Dursley, Lily's sister. A thin reed of a woman, rather spindly, with straw-thin hair and bony fingers just right for poking and prodding. Petunia and her husband Vernon, a large blimp of a man, disliked anything to do with her late sister. They abhorred anything they viewed as odd or unusual. So they had been rather reluctant to take in this small infant, months younger than their own child, for fear of what he could do.

Never mind that Harry had been little more than a year old and annoyingly dependent on them toward his well-being.

At first, Petunia had tried to withhold as many comforts from him as she could. He had been fed less than half of what their son Dudley was given, and only after the little pig had done with it. The next day, everything she cooked had smelled of dog urine, and had likely tasted as bad. And when she had tried to clothe Harry in Dudley's smelly castoffs, everything she'd tried to put on herself had been stiff and itchy, and had given her unsightly rashes.

She had considered giving him Dudley's broken toys to play with, but then had thought better of it. Harry had quite liked the plush new teddy bear and the soft blanket she'd given him instead. Petunia's garden had flourished that month.

Vernon had been slower to catch on. He'd grumbled and complained about the cost of new baby clothes and toys; he'd accused Petunia of feeding Harry more than she was their own son. He would hide Harry's blanket or even tip his food jars when Petunia's back had been turned. But the last straw was when he had stolen Harry's new bear and had dropped it into the playpen with Dudley. When he woke the following morning, every one of his expensive suits had been shredded as though a beast had been let into his closet. He'd finally stepped out the front door, wearing old faded slacks and an ugly Easter sweater, only to discover his precious car had been beaten and wrecked until it had been little more than a twisted lump of metal and broken glass.

Petunia had stared, but had said nothing at all. She'd dressed and fed Harry and Dudley, and had taken them both to the park. Vernon had ranted and raved, in the end racing to catch the bus to work. The man had probably never run so fast in his life.

~o~

Harry's life was pleasant after that. Dull, for the most part, but pleasant. His cousin Dudley, though very much loved by his parents, was not outrageously spoiled as he might have been. Petunia had learned not to give her son too much more than her nephew, though Harry didn't mind it on birthdays and holidays, and so Dudley was never given a reason to feel superior to the other boy. The two got along well enough, and Dudley would even warn Harry if Vernon was up to his old tricks.

Harry sometimes teased it was for the entertainment value, more than anything else, that his cousin would tattle on his own father. It _was_ amusing to watch Vernon reach near heart-attack levels of sputtering panic when he awoke one morning to find his hair had been tinted a marvelously attractive shade of florescent pink.

Kindergarten was a change of pace, at least. He was constantly surrounded by loud and obnoxious snot-nosed children who would bawl that they missed their mothers or else brag that that they could already tie their shoes or count all their fingers on both hands. The teacher was not much better, singing the alphabet off-key and placing far too much importance in the concept of _naptime_. Dudley enjoyed the naps well enough, but Harry would lie awake on his mat, fighting boredom. But his Aunt Petunia had been good to him that summer, and so he had promised her since the first day that he would not attack anyone at school unless they really, really – _really_ – deserved it. Annoying him didn't count.

Pushing his cousin over the side of the top of the big slide did. Dudley came home from the nurse's office with a twisted wrist and a dislocated shoulder. The unfortunate boys who had bullied him were so plagued by nightmares of falling off cliffs and skyscrapers that they would wet their beds for months afterward. Last Harry had heard, their parents had put them in with a child psychiatrist.

He passed through the rest of primary school in much the same way – letting the adults believe they were teaching him anything useful, while at the same time toying with the idea of what the newest bully to target his cousin or himself might look like hanging upside down in the girl's lavatory.

 _ **... And that's it. Preview over. Review below, and cast your vote, if you wish to see your favorite of my three Harry Potter crossover previews become a reality!**_


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